


Landscape

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:57:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drawing is aphrodisiac</p>
            </blockquote>





	Landscape

**Author's Note:**

> Written for[](http://tabbyadorer.livejournal.com/profile)[ **tabbyadorer**](http://tabbyadorer.livejournal.com/)t in the [Bandom Kinkfest](http://eledhwenlin.dreamwidth.org/697021.html).

  
Gabe pissed off Tyler and Heath, which is why Otter is in Midtown’s van, and Gabe is tucked in the third seat of My Chem’s van next to Gerard. The van smells like piss and farts and sweat and teenage guy, even though none of them are teenagers anymore. It doesn’t really smell any different than Midtown’s van, to be honest, except it has the aroma that is specific to the Ways, strange sweet-sour and slightly alcoholic.

Gerard is drawing something in his sketchbook, something with dark lines and faint shading, something with eyes that seem like they’re scratched into the paper more than drawn. Gabe leans against the far wall of the van watching, eyes following the pencil and the sweep of Gerard’s hand down the paper. It hits Gabe low, different than writing a song, different than the heat and thrill of creating something. It’s more of a longing, a wanting. Every stroke of the pencil feels like it’s running on Gabe’s skin. He huddles in on himself to repress the shiver the thought sends down his spine, shifting so Gerard won’t see his erection if he looks Gabe’s way.

He tries not to watch, but it’s distracting. Even if he focuses on Ray and Mikey in the middle seat playing their Nintendos and insulting each other, he can still hear the scritch of pencil on paper over the metallic music. “What are you drawing?”

“You.” Gerard doesn’t look up as he uses the edge of the tip to create a rough swirl of a curl that half blocks one of the eyes. “You’re dynamic.”

“You made me look kind of like a serial killer.”

“Well, yeah. Sort of.” Gerard lightly sketches a knife in one of his hands then erases it. “But you’d be a bad one. Serial killers shouldn’t be memorable.”

“They can be memorable if they kill everyone that they take to kill.”

“No. They’d remember you. Witnesses. You’re dynamic.” He draws a cobra on the front of the t-shirt the sketch is wearing. “Is it cobras that they pipe out of baskets? The ones that weave and bob and hypnotize you?”

“That’s Kaa in Jungle Book,” Mikey interjects.

“But he was a cobra, right?”

“Sure. Or a python.” Mikey nods then groans as his tinny musical death knell comes through the speakers. “Fuck.”

“Cobra.” Gerard nods and keeps drawing, never glancing at Gabe. Gabe moves closer, his dick hard enough to be distracting. He shifts his jacket off his shoulders where it was serving as a make-shift blanket and down onto his lap to hide the full-blown hard on he’s got. Gerard turns a little to let Gabe see better as he fills out body parts – arms with the hint of muscle at the cuff of the sleeves – and Gabe can practically _feel_ the pencil on his skin. He presses his hand against his dick beneath the jacket, putting pressure on it like it might make a difference.

“Do you draw me a lot?”

“Sometimes. I draw lots of things. Vampires. Zombies.”

“And me. Huh.”

“Good company,” Mikey leans over the back of his seat to see the sketch. “He draws me too.”

“Definitely good company.” He fist bumps Mikey then settles back on the seat again, careful not to lean back too far so he doesn’t give away the fact that he’s still turned on. Gerard keeps drawing, ignoring them both, spending a long time on the tapered curve of Gabe’s fingers around the neck of his bass. He’s at the point of willing Frank to drive fucking _faster_ , because if he doesn’t find a bathroom and a stall and a couple minutes of privacy, he’s going to embarrass himself all over the back seat of My Chem’s van, and he’d _never_ hear the end of that.

*

Two nights later, they actually score a hotel night since all of the bands manage to sell enough shit to afford one. Dewees and the rest of the guys in Reggie throw a party afterward, but Gabe sees Gerard leave and follows him out. Hotel nights aren’t that much different than van nights, except they contain a shower and you only have to share the bed with one person. Still, at least four guys in a room isn’t anything like privacy, but since everyone else is in Dewees’s room, chances are better than good that something could be managed.

Gerard’s standing outside, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke out into the dark. The hotel is set up like an H, and as far as Gabe can tell, it doubles as a wind tunnel in the off season. It’s colder than shit, and Gerard’s limp jean jacket is barely hanging on his shoulders. “You want to go someplace?”

Gabe’s eyebrows go up, surprised at being beaten to the punch. “Yeah. Sure.”

Gerard takes another hit then starts toward My Chem’s room. It’s just a couple of doors down, something the management will regret since they’re loud and they asked for rooms together so they wouldn’t disturb anyone, and they didn’t comply, but Gabe’s not all that worried. They warned them.

Gerard unlocks the door and tucks the key into his pocket before taking one more drag and stubbing the cigarette out on the concrete, grinding it in. “Hurry up. It’s freezing.”

“You’re the one taking the time to pollute your lungs.”

“Whatever. Come in.” He goes inside and shrugs off his jacket. He’s wearing a black jacket underneath it, as well as a black t-shirt, a white t-shirt and a pair of army fatigue pants. He’s also wearing his backpack. None of that is surprising, given how long he’s known Gerard, but it still seems excessive. “I’m going to draw you.”

“You already drew me.”

“Take off your clothes.”

“Um.” Gabe usually doesn’t have to be told twice, but something about _Gerard_ saying it seems surreal. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Take off your clothes. I’m going to draw you.”

“You drew me the other day with my clothes on.”

“So?”

Gabe starts to answer then shrugs. “Fair enough.” He strips off his clothes, folding them carefully and setting them on the chair on top of two duffels and several six packs of beer. “Now what?”

“On the bed. On your back.”

Gabe does as he’s told, though he tugs the covers down so he’s lying on the sheets. Propping the pillows against the headboard, he folds his hands behind his head and watches as Gerard pulls out his sketch pad and set it on the table, then a collection of several pens and pencils. Gabe’s dick stirs and he shifts a little on the bed, glancing down to see how obvious it is. When he looks up, Gerard’s got both shirts off and is undoing his pants.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me, it’s better this way.”

“What is?”

He shucks his pants and crawls onto the bed, settling on Gabe’s lap and straddling his thighs. “Drawing you.”

“I thought the subject was supposed to be naked, not the artist.”

“The pants get really itchy. Now be still.” He takes one of the pencils and looks at it then licks the tip, leaning in and pressing the lead against the arch of Gabe’s brow. Gabe shivers at the light touch, his breath catching in his chest. “Still.”

“Sorry.”

“Shh.” He moves the pencil, barely touching Gabe’s skin as he traces it. He moves the pencil to his hairline. “Did you know you take anatomy when you study art?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to, but it helps. What you’re drawing. Proportions. This is your frontal bone.” He sketches a line down to the tip of Gabe’s nose. “I forget all the others.”

“That’s my nose.”

“Stop talking.” He moves it from Gabe’s nose to his cheekbone, and Gabe can smell the lead. He closes his eyes, lost in memory for a moment before losing himself in the sensation as the pencil slides lightly across his skin. Cheekbones and jaw, soft shading with short little strokes under the apples of his cheeks. He sucks in a jerky breath and wants to shift beneath Gerard, adjust his cock now that it’s flushed with blood and the tip is pressed against his stomach.

The pencil keeps moving and Gabe has to open his eyes, watch the look on Gerard’s face as he concentrates, moving to Gabe’s other cheek. His eyelashes flutter as the pencil nears his eye, Gerard tracing the curve of his brow again and then turning the pencil so that he can draw the shadow of the circles under Gabe’s eyes.

“You like this.” It’s not a question, so Gabe doesn’t answer. Gerard keeps sketching, tilting Gabe’s head back to finish the line of his chin before letting the lead ticking against the skin of his throat. Gabe tries not to swallow, but he can’t help it, feeling the pressure of the pencil against his Adam’s apple.

Gerard smiles and keeps sketching, moving to Gabe’s shoulder and then his arm, just the tip scratching against the underside of his bicep. The muscle quivers and Gabe bites back a nervous laugh. “Shit. Tickles.”

“Shh.” Gerard keeps the pencil moving, frowning at every twitch of Gabe’s muscle. Gabe tries to stop thinking and just keep feeling. Gerard’s going slow, taking his time, and Gabe’s dick twitches for attention with every touch. He aches, the heat and need low in his gut, and he’s glad Gerard’s on his thighs, holding him down. “It turned you on in the van.”

“Mmm.” Gabe doesn’t move, but he can feel heat tinge his cheeks.

“That’s cool. I get turned on sometimes too. But I saw it. And I wondered.” He brings the pencil back from Gabe’s arm and Gabe instantly misses the pressure. He looks up, wondering for an instant what he looks like to Gerard. “And I was right.”

The pencil slides along Gabe’s collarbone and his head falls back, his lips parting as his breath stutters out. Gerard traces the notch between the two and then moves to the other side before moving down, making a ladder of Gabe’s ribs. Gabe clenches his fists in his hair, trying desperately not to move, trying not to focus on the fact that his cock is straining upward, leaking on his skin.

“Gerard.”

“Shh.”

Gabe groans and tries to stay still, tries not to shift his hips. “Gerard. Seriously, I…”

“Shh.” He drops the pencil lower, shading in the dark hairs that trail from Gabe’s navel to his dick. Gabe’s thighs tense with need and want and his hips roll up instinctively. Gerard tightens his knees, digging them into Gabe’s legs to keep himself steady, letting the pencil stir through the hairs.

“Fuck. No. Seriously, I…”

The pencil reaches the base of Gabe’s cock and then slides up the curve of it. The back of Gabe’s skull hits the headboard hard and his cock jerks away from the pencil’s touch. Gerard moves the pencil and traces it again, catching the tip under the ridge of the head. It’s a sharp jolt of pressure and Gabe’s whole body jerks, only his cock staying still as Gerard wraps a hand around the base so he can keep moving the pencil. Gabe wants to scream, the sound caught in his chest and then the pressure’s gone and the pencil slides up the smooth head.

Gabe pants roughly, his lungs aching as he tries to get breath, to recover and then the pencil slides along the slit, the tip wet and parting the skin. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh _god_ , fuck.” His hips jerk hard and he cries out, the pencil pressing between the skin and pain shooting through Gabe as he comes.

He slumps back on the bed, chest heaving and eyes closed. Gerard is still sitting there, weight suddenly heavy on Gabe. “I like drawing you.”

“Ngh.” Gabe waves a hand limply and shudders. “Not moving.”

“Otter’ll sleep in your room. You can sleep with me and Mikey.”

Gabe opens one eye and cocks his eyebrow. “Meant _ever_.”

Gerard smiles. “Just poke you with a pencil until you move.”

“Asshole.”

Gerard slides off of Gabe and settles on the bed beside them, pulling the covers up. “Are you calling me names? Or is that a suggestion?”  



End file.
